Club Tropicana
by Alexandra Shinai
Summary: Dean Ambrose is a struggling indie wrestler. One day, he gets an invitation to the supposedly-elite Club Tropicana. He has two questions: what the hell kind of name is Club Tropicana, and who the hell is Seth Rollins? (Ambrollins AU murder mystery with lots of porn.)


**I'm really excited about this, if you couldn't tell from all my weird posts on Tumblr about "my new fic." This is it.**

 **One part porn, one part murder mystery, and one part tribute to one of my late great inspirations (sorry I did this to your song).**

Dean thought it was a scam at best, and at worst a stupid fucking prank.

The grey envelope with his name etched on its surface in fancy lettering was painfully conspicuous in the pile of bills he could barely afford to pay during good months and that went unpaid during bad months.

At first, he ignored it. He didn't throw it out, but he didn't look at it either. He let it collect dust on his shitty excuse for a kitchen table, along with all the other mail he didn't really give a shit about but couldn't be bothered to get rid of—although he tried to get rid of it once a month. But tidiness wasn't in his nature.

He didn't bother to do anything about it until a month later, when he was sifting through his unpaid bills (he'd barely gotten booked that month, and when it was all he was good at doing it was pretty fuckin' hard to make a living) and the fancy scrawl caught his eye.

He pulled the envelope out and stared at it for a few seconds, as if his entire future was contained inside.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he opened it.

 _Dear Dean,_

 _My name is Seth Rollins. You probably don't know who I am. I work at Club Tropicana, an elite invite-only resort on Pensacola Beach. You're receiving this letter because I was specifically asked by my boss, the soon-to-be owner of Club Tropicana, to invite you. He's enjoyed your work, you see. And I do as I'm told!_

 _You have until June 1_ _st_ _to accept or decline your invitation, although I wouldn't recommend declining because you don't want to make my boss mad, do you?_

 _Please contact me at 850-447-3825 if you have any questions or if you want an easier method of accepting (because I know you won't decline after talking to me)._

 _I look forward to seeing you in person ;)_

 _Seth_

Before Dean was aware of what he was doing, curiosity got the better of him and he was picking up his phone. It only worked half the time and he could barely afford it as is, but he hoped it wouldn't let him down this time.

He decided to text Seth instead of calling outright, deciding to see for himself if it was just some shitty scam that this guy thought he'd be gullible enough to fall for.

 _is this seth_

The response was almost immediate.

 **Of course. Who's this?**

 _dean ambrose_

 **Well hello there, it's good to hear from you ;) I was starting to think you'd turned me down without even having the decency to tell me so.**

Dean decided it would be best to admit his suspicions outright.

 _is this a scam. how come i've never even heard of club tropicana_

 **It's not a scam. Go to any reputable search engine and you'll find it… of course, it is elite, so information might be limited, but the pictures should prove that it's real as real can be, baby.**

 _then why me? i probably can't even afford it. your boss trying to humiliate me or somethin?_

 **My boss enjoys your work. Consider this a reward. And once you get in… everything's free. So you don't need to worry about a thing.**

Dean hated himself for actually being tempted. _What the fuck, self._ The whole thing sounded sleazy and shady as fuck to him, and he knew sleazy and shady better than anyone else. But maybe if he could steal (borrow) Sami's laptop while he wasn't home, he'd be able to see what the rest of the world had to say about this place.

 _doesn't change the fact that i spent my last 300 bucks gettin to a show. ain't got the money to get there sethie boy_

The response to that took nearly ten minutes to reach him, just when he was convinced that Seth had given up on his broke ass.

 **I consulted with my boss and he said he'd be happy to offer you an all-expenses-paid trip here in June, for you to stay as long as you'd like.**

Dean chewed on his lip as he considered the offer. It seemed like too much for someone like him, like it was going to backfire somewhere, like it was a trap.

And of course, his pride would get in the way.

 _don't need fuckin handouts_

 **Consider it a vacation. Or, like I said, a reward. Not a handout.**

Maybe just this once.

 _fine_

 **So you accept your invitation?**

 _yeah_

 **I'll see you soon then ;)**

As he tried to wrap his head around what he'd just gotten himself into, Dean wondered what the hell Seth's deal was with all the fucking winky faces.


End file.
